August has not really been kind to my writing schedule. We had a lot of Real Life Stuff that dragged me down and made it hard to write. I'm picking up speed again now though, so I'm hoping September will be a lot better. My goal (maybe ambitious) is to have Slater's Claim finished by the end of September. I'm starting to feel the story come together now, and it's really good to be back with the Wild Blood boys. So, in that spirit - here's a teaser for you!

It was considerably thinner than it had been. She'd known he would take a cut, of course, but she'd done pretty well with private dances – all but one, she amended with a grimace. And even though most of the notes that been tossed at her on stage were one dollar bills, there had still be a lot of them. The cash Benedict had counted out for her was less than half what she'd estimated she'd earned all night.

He shrugged, puffing on his cigarette and blowing smoke rings. “You know the deal here, sweetheart. Sammy gets his cut, then I get mine, then you get yours.”

“Yeah, but -”

“Listen, you don't like it, talk to the big man, okay? My hands are tied, doll.”

Freya chewed her lip, a knot forming in her stomach. It wasn't worth arguing and she definitely didn't want to talk to Sammy. She was aching from head to toe, she was sweaty, weary, and more than ready to go home. She took her cut silently and left without saying goodbye.

This is good, she told herself, searching desperately for a silver lining. The more money Sammy took, the quicker she paid off her debt. She wished her first private customer had paid up. Bitterness stole through her as she headed back into the club. He'd been hot as hell, unexpectedly so, with that messed-up dark hair and smooth voice. Watching him get off to her dancing had been a powerful aphrodisiac that she hadn't found with any of the other guys she'd performed for tonight.

But then the asshole had stiffed her, and because he'd said he was with security, she'd been too afraid to ask Benedict about the missing money. For all she knew, he could be one of Sammy's guys.

Happy Sunday! It's a three-day weekend here in the UK, so I'm feeling especially chilled out this morning. The plan is for lots of reading and writing, with the occasional break to catch up on Celebrity Masterchef. And if your plans are somewhat similar, I have a recommendation for you! Ravenna Tate is here today with the first in her new series, TANNIN'S THUNDERBOLT. I finished this yesterday, and if you're looking for an erotic MC romance with some seriously sexy biker boys, you need the Demons on Wheels in your life. Check it out! (You're going to love how Tannin got his road name!).

When Raiyana Parente learns a Mob boss wants her dead for refusing to become his business partner, she runs. No clear plan in sight, she ends up in the parking lot of Scotty’s Place, a posh strip club in Creek Ridge, Ohio, believing the tall, muscled biker in jeans and dirty boots is the man sent to kill her. She couldn’t be more wrong.

Sterling Tanner, known to his Demons on Wheels MC Brothers as Tannin, is hit by the thunderbolt the moment he looks into Rai’s dark eyes. But the trouble she brings with her isn’t something the MC needs. Still, what’s a man to do when the woman he has to have, no matter what, shows up?

As their rough and dirty sexual relationship burns up the sheets, Tannin must find a way to keep Rai safe. But can he win her heart as well?

EXCERPT

“Oh fuck me sideways. I love big tits.”

A loud of cry pleasure accompanied him fastening his mouth first on one nipple, then the other. He squeezed them together and tortured her with his teeth and tongue, passing both across her nipples. “You taste so fucking good.”

No one had ever played with her breasts this way, so rough yet tender at the same time. He squeezed the mounds in strong hands, and each time he licked or gently bit her nipples, her clit throbbed. Rai grasped his hair, pushing his face closer to them.

“I want to fuck these. I want to come on them.”

“Yes. Yes, fuck my tits.”Fuck all of me!

He pushed her backward until her knees touched the edge of the bed. With a wicked grin that sent more shivers down her spine, Tannin shoved her once more and she fell onto the bed. No one had ever done that, either, and it was more arousing than she’d have believed possible.

“Stay like that with your feet on the floor.” He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, revealing a thick, red cock that forced a loud moan from her. Her pussy was soaked now.

Tannin tore off his boots and socks, and in an effort to get his jeans off, he nearly fell over. Rai couldn’t stop staring at his legs. Dusted with dark hair, they featured an impressive array of tats and muscles that held her spellbound. She’d never seen such a gorgeous man.

He straddled her, shoving his cock between her breasts. “Push your titties together.”

This was a first. She squeezed them against his cock as hard as she could. He grunted a few times as he thrust, before moving off her. “Spread your legs.” Rai did as he commanded, mesmerized by this rough, powerful man. He dropped to his knees and grasped her breasts again, licking the nipples, the sides, and underneath until his saliva had coated them.

When he’d settled his dick between them a second time, and after she’d once more pushed them together, this time when he thrust, his cock slid easily against her naked flesh.

“Oh, yes. That’s it. Oh fuck, that feels so damn good.”

Rai was mesmerized by the sight of his big dick thrusting between her breasts. Each pass brought the tip closer to her chin. Veins stood out on his neck. When his thrusts grew quick and jerky, she tensed, unsure what to expect. This was so arousing. Quirky, but very sexy.

Seconds after he cried out, hot cum splashed her chin and neck. She lifted her head higher and caught some on her lips. When she licked them, enjoying the salty taste, he moaned loudly and began to thrust again.

“God! You are so fucking sexy. Open your mouth.”

As soon as she did, Tannin lifted up, pulling his swollen cock from between her breasts to hold it, poised right at her lips. He milked the shaft with one hand, groaning loudly, while more tasty cum squirted into her mouth. With his other hand, he grasped her hair and forced her head closer to him.

The gesture was so dominant that Rai’s pussy fluttered in tiny contractions, especially once he shoved his dick into her mouth and finished coming inside it. She swallowed his cum, moaning softly as goosebumps broke out over her entire body. She’d never been taken like this, and never would have imagined how much she’d love it. But she wanted more. So much more.

“Wishes granted, fortunes told,”promises the sign on the booth at the back of the campus pizza place. Inside the booth sits a mechanical fortune-teller called the Wizard. His cold glass eyes give Alexandria Edgar the creeps. Her friends at Salem U think she’s crazy—they’re busy making wishes for the Wizard to grant.

But soon, their wishes turn into their worst nightmares: Alex’s roommate, who wished to look less ordinary, is disfigured in an accident. Another girl who wished to shed a few pounds can’t stop losing weight. As her friends face the consequences of their wishes, Alex suspects that her fears about the Wizard are becoming a reality. And she has good reason to be afraid: The truth is even more diabolical than she could have imagined, threatening the group’s very lives.

I loved all the Nightmare Hall books, but I remember this one as being particularly creepy, probably because I'm weird about puppets and dolls and robots and basically anything that looks sort of human but isn't (including chimpanzees but I don't wanna talk about that). It's no spoiler to say that the big bad villain of The Wish is a mechanical wizard (it's right there in the blurb, after all), who is creepy in the extreme, not least because he's sentient and has magical powers.

The Wish is basically the Monkey's Paw of the Nightmare Hall series. Innocent teens, joking around with the old mechanical fortune-teller, make silly wishes that actually seriously reflect their inner desires. At the start of the book, Julie wishes her face was more interesting. Gabe wishes he didn't have to walk everywhere. Immediately, our group of intrepid college kids are involved in a terrible car accident, leaving Gabe with crushed legs and Julie's face ruined by breaking glass.

This is just the start, as despite the utterly inherent creepiness of the Wizard, and our sensible heroine Alex's innate understanding that something is fucked up here, the group keep going back to the damn thing and making more wishes. Kiki wants to lose weight, and is suddenly struck with a wasting illness that lands her in hospital. Kyle wants peace and quiet and ends up in a coma. Marty wants to get out of his class speech and loses his voice (I guess he got off lightly, really). You see how it works here.

Alex wants to stay the hell away from the Wizard, but her revulsion towards it and her suspicions that someone is actively harming her friends, lands her in danger. Then she witnesses an attempted murder that casts suspicion on several people close to her, plunging her even deeper into trouble.

What Point Horror books do a lot is mix a supernatural explanation with a mundane one. The Wish is no exception. The Wizard absolutely has powers and, for some reason, hates teenagers. But he's also a mechanical toy and can't get out and about to actively terrorise Alex, so of course there's a human accomplice. Hoh does a good job of throwing out red herrings - Julie's twin sister, Jenny, for example, suddenly gets a new lease of life after Julie is hospital-bound. She borrows Julie's clothes, dates a football star, and suddenly seems very unconcerned with her mutilated twin. Is she involved, or just selfish? Or both! Who knows? (Spoiler: she's just selfish and really wants to date a football player).

The reveal of the Wizard's real accomplice ends up being something of a bait-and-switch. We're guided, right up until the last second, to believe it's one character, and then it ends up being another. I don't particularly have a problem with that, as the actual reveal genuinely surprised me when I first read the book all those years ago. Revisiting it now, I found myself laughing at the villain's motivation for attempted murder and stalking, which basically boils down to "I wanna be good at sports."

Kyle and I have a running joke if you're Good At Sports in America, you can get away with anything. The Wish shows that being Good At Sports is worth doing anything, including trying to murder your friends. I don't know how much I believe that as motivation, but Hoh does a good job of showing how important being a big football star is to the boys in this book. They're all former high school football heroes, struggling to keep up with their peers on the bigger college stage, and their self-worth is all tied up in that. So in the context of the book and that framework, I guess you can buy that one particular guy might get desperate enough to team up with a mechanical wizard who really hates teenagers and do his dirty work for him in exchange for being Good At Sports.

I am particularly delighted to welcome this Sunday's guest, because I absolutely adored this story. It's sexy, unique, and leaves open the possibility of so many other stories. It touches on a myth I'm fascinated by (the Scholomance) and is set in a part of the world I'd love to visit. The writing is beautiful and I dare you not to want more. So without further ado, say hello to Katerina Ross and SOUL INFECTION!

Tristan Todorov, formerly one of the best scholars at the legendary and sinister Scholomance school of magic, was cast out and now travels alone through Eastern Europe offering discreet services as an unlicensed magician. In a luxurious hotel in Prague where he’s been invited to investigate a suspicious series of suicides, he’s about to meet someone who will make him remember the darkest secret of his past. Will a night of lust soothe Tristan—or will it stir up something evil and dangerous, something he’s tried so desperately to forget?

Jarek slid off the bed, the coverlet still loosely draped over his shoulders and trailing behind him like a king’s cloak. In the gap between the folds, Tristan could see everything he wanted to.

“Don’t move,” Jarek told him softly. “Keep your hands to your sides.”

And Tristan obeyed.

“Interesting,” Jarek mused, trailing a finger along his collarbone.

Tristan sucked in a deep shuddering breath, but stayed still. It felt odd, letting this happen. Jarek slipped his hand lower, casually brushed it across Tristan’s perked nipple on the way, and then traced a path down his chest and over the muscles of his abdomen. Tristan’s abs went taut at the feather light touch, and Jarek laughed quietly.

“Sensitive.” He stated the obvious. He let the coverlet slip from his shoulders—an effortlessly seductive gesture, probably well-practiced. A slow, crooked smile made the expression on Jarek’s face all the more lascivious, which was most certainly the intention. “I think I know what you need.”

Tristan looked down pointedly and then up, with a hint of sarcasm. “Well, that’s kind of apparent.”

He still felt nervous, but not as much as when he’d thought of being pitied or rejected.Jarek quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is it? Hmm. We’ll definitely come to that, but why rush things? I’m here to take care of your wishes, even the ones you’re not sure you have. Why not try something new, something unusual?” He leaned in, very close, and Tristan felt Jarek’s warm breath on his lips when he whispered, “Just let me take control for a while, and you’ll see how good I can make you feel.”

The next moment, Jarek backed off, to Tristan’s disappointment, but maintained eye contact, and Tristan felt unable to look away, as if mesmerized. The tips of Jarek’s fingers now rested lightly on his hipbones, almost where Tristan wanted them most but not moving closer.

“Say yes,” Jarek coaxed him in a low voice. “Say you give in to me tonight. It’s easy, giving in.”

“Yes,” Tristan breathed out, not sure what he’s agreeing to and not caring in the least.

What could be better than one romance author? Two, obviously! I'm delighted to welcome Michael Mandrake and Remmy Duchene here today with their m/m romance, LOVE AT THE RIGHT TEMPO. Get your Monday off to a good start and take a look!

Hello!Thank you so much for having me! Iâd like to take a moment to talk about our newest release Love at the Right Tempo. I said our because I have the fantabulous Michael Mandrake. We enjoyed writing this story--a change from what we usually write--both of us. But the one thing that has remained the same--it's a tale of two men, trying to find their place in the world and in each other.BLURB:

Violinist Frederick Tremblay is one of the biggest names in classical music. When it comes to work, heâs all in. There is only time for music and working to make his dreams come through but none for love. Hell, he barely makes time to eat. When he agrees to play at an acquaintance sonâs birthday party he figured heâd go in, make his rounds then go homeâbut his plans change when he walks into the path of Vaughan Singleton.

Vaughan "Sin" Singleton is the disowned heir to a candy empire. After he came out, his life basically ended and he had to start over from scratch. Joining the military was the thing to save him and also the one thing that brought him to his knees. Forced to retire, slinging alcohol wasnât his dream but he needs something to pay the bills and to assist with easing back into civilian life. When he meets Frederick, Vaughan isnât looking for love, but one unguarded moment changes everything.

EXCERPTâWay to step out, man.â Deena giggled.Frederick ignored her comment and put up his free hand. There was a man behind the bar, but he had his back turned and right now, no one else was there working with him. He looked to be busy drying glasses or perhaps washing. Though Frederick didnât want to disturb him, he really wanted something else to quench his thirst.âIâm sorry, excuse me, sir.âThe man turned around and approached them. âWhat can I get you?âFrederick eyed the mature gentleman in front of him, taking in his features. Dark brown eyes, hair cut low with a beard and well trimmed mustache. His lips were thick. Kissable. Frederick loved a man with distinct features.âOh â¦ umâ¦ Iâd like a soda. Perhaps a 7-Up or Sprite if you have it.â Frederick continued staring, clutching his violin case tightly in his hands.Deena seemed to pick up that he was tongue tied. âAnd Iâll have a beer. Heineken if you have it?ââHeineken for the lady and aâumâsoda for the gentleman,â the bartender said. There was a slightly hitch in the way he said soda, almost as if in disbelief. He then focused his attention on Deena. âWould you like the bottle or a glass?ââThe bottle is fine. Iâm a simple kind of gal.â She giggled.Frederick smiled at the man, still holding onto his violin as if it were a life raft. He wondered why the bartender seemed put off by his request. âSomething funny about 7-Up or Sprite?â

The bartender eyed him with his head tilted slightly to the side. âOh nothing.â He spoke, his lips forming over the two words making them escape his being easily. âNothing at all.â Without another word, he walked over for a clean glass that sparkled. They had the word Princeâs with a crown on the side in golden letters. Using large hands, the bar man operated the tap to expertly fill the glass with Sprite before grabbing a green bottle of Heineken from a cooler and prying off the cap. When he returned he set the glass before Frederick without a word but offered Deena a smile with her drink. âMaâam?ââThanks.â Deena batted her eyelashes at him.Flirtatiously.Frederick suppressed a growl and eyed his glass, watching the bartender walk away again. For some reason, it bothered him that the guy appeared to be bothered by his choice of beverage. âI donât drink alcohol, by the way. Iâm sort of boring. The fact I play violin is the most interesting thing about me.â Frederick set Gabriel beside him in a vacant chair. He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed slowly, still gazing at the handsome gentleman working the bar.Deena nearly spat out her beer, and she nudged him with her elbow.âTo each their own,â the bartender said. âDid anyone let Stuart know youâre here?âFrederick finished his Sprite, still gawking at the man. âYes, the hostess did. I suppose sheâll be back shortly. Do you mind if I ask your name?â Frederick thought heâd go for broke even though it was quite possible heâd be barking up the wrong tree. A part of him said he wasnât, or perhaps he hoped that to be true.Deena gasped next to him, seemingly in surprise.The bartender moved to stand directly across from Frederick, braced his elbows into the bar and leaned in. âIf you wish to tell my boss Iâve been an ass to you,â he said, his voice warm and rough. âYou donât need my name for that. All you have to do is tell him the black guy at the bar. Iâm the only one here.âFrederick shivered at the sound of the manâs voice and how he leaned in so close to him. Instead of shying away as he usually did, he decided to play the game. âActually, I wasnât thinking that at all. More like, I wanted to know your name so I know the lovely man that is taking such good care of us tonight and, maybe might like to have a drink with me after my performance?â Frederick knew he was going for broke. Gazing at the bartender, Frederick had every intention on finding out something about him, even if it was the disappointing news heâd dread.âI see.â The barman licked his lips. âIâm working. Drinking on the job is strictly prohibited, and besidesâyouâre not a fan of alcohol.âFrederick sighed inwardly. He looked to Deena for help, but she only kept drinking her beverage.

I don't know how everyone else is doing today, but here in Cambridge it's pouring with rain, I think I'm coming down with something, and the week has generally been awful so far. So I figured today was a good day to share some good news and try to raise my own spirits.

*drum roll*

VANDAL has been accepted into Evernight's forthcoming LAWLESS anthology!

I'm so excited! This was such a fun story to write, and really leaves itself open to sequels (although I have reservations about starting a series with an anthology story, but we'll see...). And I can't wait to see what other kinds of stories make the final anthology. It's such a good theme!

The projected release date is November this year, and I'll share more details as I get them. In the meantime, here's a quick blurb for VANDAL.

When Vandal meets Tara, he knows he's found his dream woman. There's just one problem. Tara's ex-husband is the son of a crime lord, and Vandal's MC are trying to cut a deal with him. Vandal won't give up Tara, and her ex won't back off. To keep the woman he loves and save his MC's deal, Vandal's going to have to fight dirty. And that's just fine with him.

I meant to post this yesterday but, long story short, Nero and I decided we needed a day off and spent all of Sunday on the sofa watching movies. I feel slightly dirty and unproductive now, but it was nice to do absolutely nothing. And that does mean we get to kick off Monday with a bang now, thanks to Lucy Felthouse!

Mallory Scott is an espionage operative, working for the British government. She’s travelled all over the world, often going undercover and infiltrating criminal organisations in order to extract the intelligence needed to dismantle their operations and bring the perpetrators to justice. Given her usual targets are terrorists, people-traffickers, drug-traffickers and arms dealers, her latest assignment should be relatively simple. A small group of Brits is raking in serious money in the diamond-scamming business—and although their MO is theft and forgery, rather than hurting people, they still need to be stopped. But up until now, they’ve proved elusive—no one can catch them in the act, or find a shred of evidence against them.

That’s where Mallory comes in. She follows the group to Amsterdam, planning to get her claws in to one of the gang. Luck is on her side, and within twenty-four hours she’s lunching with Baxter Collinson, the youngest—and most handsome—diamond thief. What she’s not expecting, however, is to get on with him quite so well. Attraction bubbles between them—and for once, on Mallory’s part, it isn’t an act. For the first time in her career, Mallory struggles with what she must do.​Can she ignore her heart for the sake of her career?

Mallory Scott spotted the people she was looking for as soon as she walked into the hotel bar. Hell, she hadn’t even needed to search; they were being so loud and obnoxious they were practically screaming for attention.

Stupid, in Mallory’s opinion. If you were running an international diamond scam, surely you’d want to keep a low profile? But no, apparently these guys didn’t give a shit. Not only were they screaming for attention—and getting it, she noticed, as other patrons of the bar shot them the occasional glare—they were also projecting the fact that they were filthy rich. They were supping on the most expensive champagne money could buy and demanding oysters and caviar be brought in. The overwhelming arrogance made her blood boil, but she consoled herself with the fact that by the time she was done with them, they’d be taken down by more than a peg or two—they’d be at rock bottom.

Heading for a table in a position where she could watch them, but remain partially hidden behind a pillar, she shook her head. She could hardly believe they’d kept their multi-million-pound enterprise going for so long. If they ran their operation as sloppily as their current behaviour indicated they might, it was a miracle indeed.

Not that it mattered. They could be running the tightest ship ever known to man, and she would still find a way to take them down. It was what she did. For years now, she’d been successfully infiltrating illegal operations of varying kinds, then gradually dismantling them from the inside. Before the criminals realised what was happening, it was too late—their wrists were practically in the handcuffs, their arses on their way to jail.

This project was different from the ones she usually handled. Her past takedowns included terrorist plots, kidnappings, drugs, people-trafficking… that kind of thing. She’d been involved because sending in police or military personnel wouldn’t work. Not in those particular circumstances. To be truly effective, Mallory needed to infiltrate the organisations at the top, gain their trust—or at least enough trust to allow her to snoop—and acquire evidence of their involvement to ensure their convictions. Otherwise, rushing in and stopping the terrorists, saving people and so on, important as that was, would only affect a tiny part of the organisation. It was vital to dismantle the whole thing, from the big bosses and the money men, right down to the minions doing the leg work.

An added bonus to this approach was that the victims of these organisations, as well as being saved, would know that justice had been served to those that hurt them, and the knowledge that they’d never get the opportunity to do it again. It was dangerous but fulfilling work, and Mallory couldn’t imagine doing anything else. She loved the adrenaline rush, the challenge.

And the challenge element was precisely why this job was different. In as much as it wasn’t supposed to be particularly challenging. Intel gathered over the past year had pinpointed the what, the who—though they couldn’t yet put faces to names—the where and the how, and that had been done covertly, without the need for an undercover operative. All that remained in this case was to find out the when, so they could be caught in the act. It should have been simple, really. But the group was careful, exceedingly so. One of their number was a hacker, meaning that trying to access their emails, internet search histories and voicemails, or tap their phones without being detected was almost impossible. They were smart.

Which meant the only option remaining was the old-fashioned approach.

A honey trap. It was Mallory’s mission to attract the attention of one of the men in the group—hell, even one of the women if any of them swung that way—and slowly, slowly cultivate and exploit their relationship in order to get the information she needed. Then boom, another international criminal enterprise would bite the dust.

Which brought Mallory to her current position, dressed up in ludicrously expensive designer gear and half-hiding behind a pillar in the bar of Amsterdam’s most exclusive hotel. Someone less experienced than Mallory might have found the idea of staying out of sight ridiculous. The aim was to get the attention of one of the gang members, after all. But Mallory was at the top of her game, the very best of the best, and she knew damn well that putting in a little groundwork early on would pay off in spades. Before she did anything, before she so much as batted an eyelash in the direction of the gang, she needed to identify her target. It was pointless trying to eye-fuck with a bloke from across the room, only to discover he preferred men, or was happily married and the faithful type. That would attract the wrong kind of attention. When she did get noticed by the group, she wanted it to be for the right reasons, and on her terms. If they caught even so much as a whiff of her deception, it would be game over.

So she would watch, and wait. Then as soon as she decided which one of the group was going to be her new boyfriend, she’d move in for the kill. Figuratively speaking, of course. Killing wasn’t her job. She was capable of it, and over the course of her career had ended more than one life in self-defence, or in order to protect others, but she was no cold-blooded murderer.

​She was something much more dangerous; something that no one ever saw coming.

Author Bio:Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Looking for that perfect beach read? Or that perfect read that will get you hot and bothered without the need to head to the beach? (Let's face it, if you're in the UK right now, the beach isn't looking that inviting). Well, I can help!

Happy Hump Day! This week is disappearing quickly, which is definitely not a bad thing, but it does feel like squeezing out writing time is harder than usual as a result...Still, I'm making steady progress on Slater's Claim this week, and as proof, I bring you a snippet. Enjoy!

​She sashayed onto the stage like she owned it, long legs perfectly displayed in a pair of ragged demin shorts. Even without the skyscraper heels she wore, it was clear she was tall. Slater was six foot four. He liked tall women. Her glossy hair was dyed a dark, vibrant shade of magenta that glowed under the pink stage lights. She wore a simple navy tank top with a vintage-looking garage logo on it. The top clung lovingly to her generous breasts, the way good clothing should cling to a good woman. Slater licked his lips unconsciously, already imagining dragging his tongue over that creamy skin.

The woman winked coquettishly at him, spurring an instant, irrational jealousy in Slater. She grabbed hold of the pole and began to dance.

Unlike Glass’s girl, she had rhythm, her hips shimmying effortlessly to the beat of the trashy music. She didn’t have much skill with the pole, but she had an easy sensuality that caught the eye anyway. Frankly, Slater would have paid to watch her sit there and file her nails, as long as she did it in those shorts and heels. She twirled herself around with careless grace, like she was dancing for herself and not the men watching. Slater liked that.

Benedict watched her, transfixed, chin resting in his hands and a goofy grin on his face. Slater did not like that, but he stomped on the feeling. It perturbed him. It was one thing to admire a woman, but this surge of ownership was something else, something that would get in the way of him doing his job here. He bit his lip and tried to watch her dance the same way he’d watch one of the club girls dance, with a detached appreciation.

His stiff cock told him he was failing.

By the time her song came to an end, he was shifting uncomfortably on his seat, the sound of squeaking leather drawing him the occasional sly smile from Punk. He gritted his teeth and refused to meet his friend’s eye. The woman struck a pose as she finished, hands on hips, head tossed back, and she looked expectantly at Benedict.

“How did I do?” she asked.

Benedict gave her a round of applause. “Not bad, baby, not bad. Need a little work on the whole, you know, pole stuff.” He made a vague gesture with his hand that could have meant anything. “But one of the more experienced girls can help you with that. How’d you hear about the job?”

I feel like July only started a minute ago, and now it's over! Looking back, I squeezed a lot into the last few weeks, so it's no wonder I don't know where the time went. In addition to writing, editing, and submitting Vandal, I edited and submitted a Naomi Clark novel, had one released, and just finished edits for a short story. I've now got my Amber hat firmly on as I wait to hear back about Vandal and work on Slater's Claim. Because of those aforementioned short story edits, I haven't made much progress on Slater's Claim yet (well, that and going into London to see Swan Lake at the weekend, which was amaaaaaaaaaazing and highly recommended).

But the schedule is looking clear now, so I'm hoping to really crack on and make steady progress with Slater's Claim this month. I've been doing a fair bit of non-fiction reading to help me figure out the nitty-gritty of the plot, and particularly enjoyed this one:

"Enjoyed" is probably an odd word to use, given the subject matter, but it really is a well-written, engaging book and it's helped me a lot in figuring out the villain of Slater's Claim. It also helped shape the background stuff in Vandal, so it was a pretty invaluable read! If you're into true crime or New York history, I thoroughly recommend it.

So! I declare August to be Wild Blood month. Stay tuned for news about Vandal (hopefully!) and sneak peeks at Slater's Claim. And go see some ballet!